Out of the Blue

by Dee J. Adams

  She laughed and he saw a silent thank you in her eyes. But her smile faded and she glanced down at the paper in her hands. “Guess we should get back to work.”

  No matter how much he’d rather talk and flirt with her, they did have songs to finish. “Guess you’re right.” Brendan turned back to the music he’d been working on before Casey’s humming had distracted him. He couldn’t use anything they’d just created together, but the notes kept pushing their way into his brain. The song was by no means finished, but what they’d riffed together in just a few minutes could eventually be a great tune with some TLC.

  Brendan concentrated on the lyrics he’d started for Carrie’s song. Though he didn’t expect them to win with a rap song, he knew Carrie was more versatile than people gave her credit for. She had a powerful voice and a great stage presence. If he could come up with decent lyrics and half decent music, he could make it through this round and head to week four. He didn’t expect to win, not with Ryan, Seger and Rihanna still in the mix. This would’ve been Pitbull’s week to shine if he’d still been in the competition.

  He smiled thinking about Ryan belting out the show tuned he’d penned last week. He hadn’t expected the rocker to sell it so effortlessly. More than half this competition depended on the performer and a few of them were more than versatile enough to handle all the genres coming their way…including Carrie Underwood belting out a rap song for him this week. Pitbull had even pulled off a great ballad on week one, but April’s lyrics and music hadn’t been sharp enough to keep them in the running.

  No doubt, each week the pressure mounted as singers got knocked off and the competition dwindled. Week three, which meant halfway through. Brendan still had three chances to land Seger…if they both lasted that long. That was bound to be an interesting week. They’d have to pretend they didn’t know each other and Seger wasn’t a fan of lying. Yep, it was going to be interesting.

  Brendan worked on his song for three days before he met Carrie. Casey had been a hundred percent right in that the singer was absolutely genuine on every level. Meeting a lot of celebrities had become the norm while working for Seger, but Brendan still managed to get star struck when meeting other performers he admired. Performers like Carrie Underwood. She was beautiful and talented and there was nothing not to like about her. Brendan showed her the lyrics and his palms sweated as she looked over the sheet. He knew the words by heart and watched as she soaked them in.

  I’m gonna take it from the top and tell you all about how.

  He turned me inside out and left me upside down.

  Everything was kickin’, I was cool as ice.

  I met him and I thought yeah, man, paradise.

  But the love he gave was conditional and it disappeared with the moon.

  So I’m telling you I ain’t fallin’ in love, no, no not anytime soon.

  Don’t tell me lies. Get outta my way.

  Don’t look at me like you want me to stay.

  ’Cause I know the deal. You ain’t for real.

  You don’t give a damn about how I really feel.

  I don’t want that knife in my back. I won’t bow down to your ways.

  No, I don’t want that knife in my back. I won’t go drowin’ in your waves.

  A solid shot is what got to my chest and I swear this time is the last.

  ’Cause next time I see you I’m not gonna flinch, you’ll just be part of my past.

  The chorus then repeated, followed by a bridge:

  Why did I think we had a shot? Why did you make me fall so hard?

  Now all I’ve got is this broken heart. And nothing to show but this big ass scar.

  How do you know if he’s for real or the one?

  How do you tell if it’s a lifetime or fun?

  The song ended with a final repeat of the chorus.

  After what felt like an eternity to Brendan, Carrie lifted her gaze from the page and stood taller, her head cocked to the side. “Got music to this beauty?”

  He thought his heart might bust through his ribs as he nodded his relief. He sat at a synthesizer in the music room and pounded out the beat. Carrie caught on and showed him a side to her Brendan didn’t know existed. She turned as “street” as any versatile performer could.

  When they finished the first go-round, Brendan had a great feeling about this week’s show. The crowd was going to eat up Carrie’s rap. For her part, she seemed ecstatic to show the audience how limitless her talent seemed to be. They worked for three days on the song and it only got better as she helped him tweak the music.

  Before show time, the contestants met to shoot a section of the show to talk about their week. Likewise, they’d meet at the end and discuss the performances and reminisce about the person and celebrity voted off. Everyone sat in the same semicircle according to how they entered the show. That meant Casey sat virtually opposite him in the circle and they basically stared at each other the whole time.

  Not a hardship. Brendan figured he could look at her for a very long time and not get tired of the view.

  Five of them remained out of the original seven and by the end of the night, there’d only be four. Brendan didn’t include Mitch since he had been booted before the show got started. He figured Dante, Jack and Casey had the best chances of winning with Rihanna, Ryan Tedder and Seger singing their songs. But all the performers had shown their talent by jumping genres and giving their all to stay in the competition.

  Though the cameras never turned off, there were obvious things that the group had figured would never make airtime. Waiting for the producer to stage this chat session was one of those times. They all laughed in camaraderie that went along with the pressure. In just a few short hours, one of them would be history.

  Something squeaked overhead and Brendan glanced up at the lights. The whole rack swayed gently, but Brendan didn’t see anyone overhead. Not that he usually did, but clearly guys had to work on the lighting and they probably did it when the group was in the yard, playing one of the stupid games the show rigged up to keep everyone competing against each other. Brendan also decided those stupid games took them away from their composing and created more stress and panic.

  Yeah, because that made for good television.

  Miles sat down next to the cameraman. He looked his normal Hollywood cool in an ice blue button-up shirt and navy slacks. “Okay, let’s get started.” He motioned to the cameraman and the red light flashed on.

  Something dropped behind Casey’s seat, but Brendan only saw it peripherally since he had his eyes on Miles. Whatever it was didn’t make a sound as it landed on the area rug beneath them. For a second, Brendan wondered if he had some kind of floater in his eye and nothing had dropped at all. But then he heard another noise above and watched the lighting rig shake again. Earthquake? He waited for the usual vibration under his feet or the walls to shake, but neither one of those things happened. A nasty smell of fumes—something burning—hit his nose and everyone seemed to notice it as they looked around.

  “How about we move out from under the lights for a second?” Brendan said getting to his feet. A flash and crack happened over their heads and everyone jumped and ducked simultaneously. Another high pitched squeak rent the air and something else dropped behind Casey as she got to her feet. Brendan didn’t wait for her to move. He dove, tackling and rolling, protecting her head with his hand and tucking her close as a crash sounded exactly where she’d been seated.

  Glass from the light shattered and covered the chair and carpet. A small fire exploded on the ground, sending foul smelling fumes into the set.

  “Everyone out,” Miles ordered, pointing toward the yard.

  Brendan’s heart beat wildly as he helped Casey to her feet. “You okay?” He scoped her for injuries. Damn, that had been close.

  She nodded, her eyes wide and her face pale. “Yeah. I think so.”

  He looked up at the lighting rig again to see a dangling rope and a support beam hanging limply from the grid. Then he hurr
ied them out to the yard, keeping her hand locked tightly in his, watching as crew members fired extinguishers at the downed light.

  Once in the yard, Brendan turned and took a closer look. Casey’s eyes were still wide and freaked out, but he figured his were too. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  Taking a few deep breaths, she gave him a hesitant smile. “I am thanks to you. How’d you know that light was going to fall?”

  “I wasn’t sure. I thought I saw something fall behind you a minute before the light flashed. Then the whole rig shook. I didn’t like the sound or look of any of it. It wasn’t like we had an earthquake. That’s what I thought it was in the beginning, but nothing else moved.”

  “Well, thank you for being so observant. That was almost a very big disaster.”

  Very big didn’t begin to describe it. That light would’ve crushed her in a heartbeat. Brendan’s stomach rolled over. She eased a chunk of hair behind her ear with a shaky hand and the urge to pull her close and keep her safe bolted through him. Screw it. He didn’t care what America thought. “C’mere.” Gently, he tugged her into him and wrapped her up in his arms. She went without a fight and it only made him more determined to have the conversation he wanted. They needed to have a serious talk about Hawaii and their morning after. Or the lack of one in their case.

  Casey didn’t even know how she managed to shoot the episode that night. After the show, they got together again in their usual semicircle, although this time they sat outside in the warmth of a Southern California night. Instead of overhead lights on a grid, the crew had set up stands weighted down with sand bags so they were still lit up like a halftime show of the Super Bowl.

  She figured the only reason she’d lasted tonight’s cut was because Seger was so damn good. Casey knew she’d messed up on the piano. Her mind had been on the accident, on the way it felt to be in Brendan’s strong arms when all hell broke loose. She felt even worse because Seger had hugged her instead of yelling at her for screwing up.

  The celebrities had something at stake in this game too. The winner won a hundred thousand dollars to donate to the charity of their choice. They wanted to win as much as the contestants.

  But Casey knew better than to point out her screw-ups. Seger and she were the only ones who really knew what happened and she wanted to keep it that way.

  The show said farewell to Lisa and Kristin Chenoweth, which meant Carrie Underwood was still in the running with country music looming in the future. It also meant Casey was the lone female left on the show. She’d have that giant room with four beds all to herself. Technically it gave her an extra quiet room all to herself.

  After the show recap ended, Casey wanted to stay glued to her seat, but she knew the crew had to clear the set, and the contestants weren’t allowed to be in contact with anyone but each other and a few of the producers.

  Someone came over and shadowed her from the bright light. She knew his scuffed brown boots. She knew a lot about him because she watched him so much. Like the way he ran his hand through his hair when he concentrated on lyrics. Or the way he sucked on his bottom lip when he riffed on the guitar. She glanced up and met Brendan’s gaze.

  He held out his hand. “How ’bout I walk you inside?”

  She didn’t need the escort, but she wasn’t going to pass up holding his hand. Especially when she needed his comfort. She loved how the lights hit his hair and brought out the red streaks. Even his stubble sparkled with red highlights when his face caught the right light. Standing over her, Brendan looked so strong, so confident. She remembered his mile-wide shoulders has he hovered over her, pumping inside her and driving her to one explosive climax after another. A damp spot wet her underwear as she took his hand and stood. “Thanks,” she murmured.

  “You hungry? Thirsty?” he asked with a sidelong glance.

  She loved the narrow-eyed gaze he gave her. The concern she saw nearly melted her wet underwear. “What did you have in mind?” She could really use a nice glass of wine, but the house didn’t have any alcohol stocked. They’d checked.

  He led her into the kitchen. “I’ve got just the thing for a tough day.” He flashed a sexy smile and Casey held her breath at the spectacular sight. After pulling a stool out from the counter that ran along the long galley kitchen, he gestured for her to sit. She did. He searched a lower cabinet, grabbed a small pot and set it on the stove.

  “A little milk,” he murmured as he snatched a carton from the fridge. He turned, holding up the milk and a packet of hot chocolate. “You do like hot chocolate, right?” He shrugged. “I mean, who doesn’t like hot chocolate?”

  She bit her bottom lip through a smile, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. With a nod, she confirmed his question. “I do. It’s one of my favorites. I just usually only have it when I’m really cold.”

  He pursed his lips together and looked around the kitchen. “I could turn up the AC? We could freeze the house. Might be fun.”

  She loved his out-of-the-box suggestion and grinned. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Besides, it might bring one of the others, and I like the size of this party just the way it is.” A big admission on her part—on a couple of levels—and one she refused to regret. She knew they’d edit this into the show, but she didn’t care. She wanted Brendan to know how she felt. Her little way of letting him know that she liked him despite leaving him in Hawaii.

  The heat in his eyes had her catching her breath a second time. The man was as potent as a narcotic. He gave her his back as he poured milk into the pot and turned on the burner. He found two mugs and set the hot chocolate packets on the counter before turning back to her.

  “So… How are you? For real?” His gaze flicked to hers. “You okay?”

  He might’ve been talking about the light accident or the fact that she’d botched tonight’s show or the fact that she was the lone female left standing. So many things to choose from. Casey chose to pick the accident and nodded. “Thanks to you, yes. I’m glad you’re observant. Tell me something else about you,” she said.

  He went back to the stove. “Like what?” He stirred the milk and poured the contents of the packets into the mugs.

  “Like…how old are you?” She caught the extra sparkle in his eyes. Yes, they were covering different territory than in Hawaii. They hadn’t talked about age.

  “Twenty-three,” he said. “You?”

  “Twenty-four.” She liked being a little older than him. “When’s your birthday?”

  “June twenty-second. When’s yours?” he asked.

  “No way! I’m December twenty-second. Our birthdays are exactly six months apart.” Kind of cool. She especially liked the sexy smile he shot her way. She’d learned about his big sister and three older brothers—one of them being his twin—during their poolside conversation in Hawaii. She also knew they were in a family band of sorts, but she wanted more. “So what got you started playing the guitar?”

  A half smile lifted his lips. “That was my dad’s fault. He was a closet musician himself. A drummer. My mom accused him of having kids just so he could force us into playing instruments so he could have the band he always wanted.”

  Envious of the fondness in his voice and eyes, Casey wished she had a similar relationship with her parents. “How old were you when you started playing music?”

  “I don’t know…maybe five or six. My dad threw instruments in all our hands at a very young age. We had a rocky start.” He grinned, reliving a memory.

  “You obviously took to it. Did everyone else get as good on their instruments as you did?” she asked.

  Brendan chuckled. “Well, we didn’t suck all the time.”

  His endearing reply made her smile. “So you were kind of like the Jackson Five?” Any Michael Jackson fan knew how he started.

  Nodding, Brendan glanced up. “Exactly. Just like Michael.” He did a suggestive bump and grind and grabbed his crotch for good measure. Then he pulled off a very impressive spin move and moonwalk before holding the
tip of an imaginary hat.

  Casey burst out laughing. “Look at you! Fancy.” She leaned her elbows on the granite counter and relaxed. “What music did you start out playing?”

  Brendan stirred the milk. “My dad was big on the oldies. Boston, Credence Clearwater Revival. Van Halen.”

  She snorted. “My parents were into the original oldies. Bach, Beethoven. Mozart. All I got was classical.” It was all she’d learned in the beginning.

  The milk sizzled and Brendan filled each mug, stirring the contents together. “And a pinch of cinnamon,” he murmured, tossing in the spice. He walked around the counter, handed her one of the mugs and took the seat next to her. Their thighs touched from the knees up and Casey’s heart thumped harder with the contact.

  “Where did you learn to make hot chocolate this way? It’s so old fashioned,” she mused, trying to focus on anything except the warmth he radiated. She took a sip and about died. “Oh my, God, this is so good.”

  Brendan took his own taste. “It’s better with marsh-mellows and a touch of nutmeg, but I couldn’t find either. My mom taught us that perfect hot chocolate needs milk, not water. Plus, you pick up a few things when you’re working a bar.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” She took another sip, enjoying their alone time and the way Brendan looked at her over his cup. His blue eyes still had all that heat that melted her. Could the camera pick that up or was she the only one who saw it? “What else did your mom teach you?” She loved getting to know him better.

  “She taught me to go after what I want.” His meaning was crystal clear, but Casey chose to misinterpret it. What she couldn’t ignore was his warm palm sliding from her knee and up between her legs.

  She opened her legs a fraction, giving him silent permission. No way the camera could see what he was doing. Their bodies blocked all camera angles. “That’s why you’re here. Why we’re all here,” she added. Her voice sounded oddly low and she cleared her throat.